After the refit

One of the Marines had taken a tumble down whilst hefting the flour sacks to the breadroom, and Leat wearily added the incident to the growing list of minor injuries sustained that day. It would only have grown longer by the time the day was out. Silently, for probably the thousandth time in many years, he thanked God that he had escaped the lower decks - as he remembered the strain, pains and back-breaking work it took to provision a ship all too vividly, and although he now had the headache of dealing with stupid questions, cross-grained merchants and petty officials, it was something he was willing to do till his dying day if it meant he would never have to haul another flour sack.

But here was another problem.

"Mr. Leat, sir!"

A voice hollered up from one of the barges below, and the lieutenant leaned over the side, his eyes widening in disbelief. Down below in an open transport was a smartly uniformed army officer, and a less smart-looking private who was holding the head of a very fine-looking chesnut warhorse. The horse was champing at its bit, whilst both soldiers were looking up at him expectantly.

The lieutenant's mouth dropped open.

"What in God's Name is that?"

Peter came to look over the side of the ship. "It's a horse, sir," he said helpfully. "I've seen them before, on land..." He grinned, and then started calling men forward to arrange for a canvas sling and a hoist. Not that they were necessarily going to take the animal aboard, but if they were, the Lieutenant would find that Midshipman Yates was ready for any eventually. But where on the ship could they keep a horse? Did it belong to the passengers who would be coming aboard tomorrow.

"Thank you, Mister Yates," Leat said flatly. "And there I was thinking it was a duck."

The question was what on earth was it doing here? He had been expecting two horses belonging to the guests later that day; two mares it had been said, delivered sometime in the afternoon by a groom from the army Headquarteres. But this beast was a stallion - a suspiciously fine, expensive-looking stallion - which came not just with a groom, but an officer. He had not been expecting this.

"Ahoy, Terpsichore!" hailed the officer.

Leat was sorely tempted to say they were not at home.

"Yes?"

"Lieutenant Banks, Army Headquarters. Is Captain Bolitho aboard?"

"He's busy with the Purser. What is it that you want to see him about?"

Although it was flaming obvious what it was about...

"There is a request - an addition to the other supplies you are carrying for us! We would be infinitely obliged if you could take the horse as well! May I speak to the captain?"

Thompson grinned. "I ain't bin a landlubber for near twelve years, y'know. And anyone can take a tumble in the dark when the ship lurches sudden-like. Anyways, you don't want to get caught slackin' off. Best you'd go and do what you'm s'posed to be doin' and come an' find me later if'n you still wants to talk. I'll likely be here or back in our messdeck, after of your lot."

Would Mister M'Clure want to keep him here? Would Doctor Crozier, when he got back aboard?

"Are we taking it aboard?" Peter asked, eyeing the horse with awe. Even the squire hadn't had such a beauty. "The men are rigging the hoist now, but... We don't have anywhere suitable for that!" It would kick out if lowered into the hold, break its legs, and some rich officer would be down the cost of one very expensive cask of fresh meat.

"They didn' see me leave.. so's not as if they'll notice me gone!" He nodded confidently then looked at Thompson's ankle. "..you'um be able ter walk?... looks terrible, it does." He looked genuinely concerned.

(gone now to be back later !)

"Whether they saw you go or not ain't the point, lad. You'm makin' more work for them by bein' here. An' no, I can't walk on it, and it does hurt a bit, but it'll get better soon enough."

Which was a lie; it couldn't be too soon as far as Thompson was concerned.

M'clure nodded briskly. "Yer've seen he ain't about ter drop dead on yer, lad, so back ter work now." he chivvied the youth along.
How many more visitors was Thompson going to get? could he legitimately start charging, or somesuch, in recompense? Well...no. He couldn't really. Crozier would have his head, to start off with.

"Yer can't walk, so yer'd better stay down here with me, thompson." He said, by way of introduction to that uncomfortable topic. He'd turned back to replacing the bottles he'd removed, and putting the mug to hand ready for him to wash with all the other items he'd no doubt be working on tomorrow.

"And no doubt the good Dr Crozier will want ter inspect yer as well, when he gets back...allas likes a nice little ankle injury, he does."

Leat was alltoo aware of the problems the stallion would cause - not in the least if it were put in with the mares! Yet Banks seemed intent on speaking to the captain, and Leat sighed in resignation.

"Come aboard!" he said. "Gregson, help Lieutenant Banks up the side."

A few minutes later the soldier was standing on deck, a little bit shaken from his trip up the side manhandled by sailors, but thankfuyl not having received a dousing.

"Now, sir," Leat said, frowning at Banks. "What is this about? Whose horse is this? We were not detailed to receive any horses, except those that are salted and stored in barrels, and we have no space for horses."

Banks smoothed down his uniform and picked a piece of flaked paint off his arm.

"According to the stable grooms you are to receive three passengers and two horses for your trip to Oporto - I am sure one extra horse will be no trouble."

"Contrary to popular belief the hull of a ship is not made of Indian rubber," Leat said sarcastically. "We have not the room. And where am I supposed to store it? I can't just stack it up with the barrels! You'll have to take it back."

Banks' expression hardened.

"I'm afraid you must take it, lieutenant - else I shall let you explain to Sir Arthur Wellesley why you couldn't find room for his horse on your outward trip."

Oh joy. And the doctor would probably want to undo the perfectly well-done bandage and start poking around and make it hurt even more.

"Is there anything I can do to help you, then, Mister M'Clure?" he asked. "Or can I get somebody to get me some of my kit to work on, or summat, please?"

The prospect of spending however-long down here with absolutely nothing to do did not fill the Marine with joy.

With a rather annoyed glare at Mc'Clure the boy did follow in the direction he was guided to, though reluctantly. Perhaps only as Thompson has also told him he was best to go and because, were he not, there would indeed be trouble. He did not much care if the others would be having more work to do. He wasn't quite throwing his weight about with what he was carrying. Not only because he'd not have wanted to but because no matter the short voyage to Lisbon, his body hadn't had the training nor the strength to do, what well bred sailors did for so long.

He scampered , with a final: ".. I'll see ye later." And was gone again. Off to pick his load, carry it further below and then climb on deck to do the same with the next. Not as big as that of the sailors perhaps, but for a boy, in proportion, just as heavy.

He watched the lad go, and sighed. To be laid up simply because he'd ricked his ankle... it wasn't right, that. He looked up at M'Clure hopefully, wanting something to do, to be useful somehow.

Leat felt all the force of his arguement suddenly fade into insignificance. Sir Arthur Wellesley. General Sir Arthur Wellesley's horse; the same General now commanding all British operations in the Peninsula. It couldn't get any worse.

Then he turned to see that the captain had just come on deck from his cabin.

Having left Foxley to deal with the rest of the stowing away of the replenished supplies, Bolitho made his way up on deck. He hoped that he would find Leat somewhere in the vicinity, for he wanted to inquire if all the supplies had finally been brought aboard. He caught sight of the lieutenant near the rail, and he crossed the deck towards him. That was when he noticed that there was a man in an army uniform beside Leat.

"Mr. Leat," Bolitho said, nodding in the lieutenant's direction as he approached, "And who might you be, sir?"

Banks saluted smartly as Bolitho turned his gaze on him.

"Lieutenant Banks, sir, of Army Headquarters, Lisbon. Come to deliver General Sir Arthur Wellesley's horse for transportion. Sir."

Bolitho had to refrain from blinking in surprise as the man spoke. Sir Arthur Wellesley's horse? To transport aboard the Terpsichore? That was all they needed. It was not a request to his liking at all, but how could he refuse a request from Wellesley?

"Very well, Lieutenant Banks," Bolitho said when he finally found his voice, "I'm assuming you have the horse in question with you, so I thank you for transporting it to the ship."

Then he turned to Leat.

"Have the general's horse brought aboard at once," he said.

"Sir," Leat replied faintly. He turned to Yates. "Have Sir Arthur's stallion brought aboard would you, Yates?"

Banks very smoothly gave Bolitho his sincerest thanks, saluted smartly again and disappeared over the side.

"But where are we to stow it, sir?" Leat asked, barely waiting for the soldier to go before he spoke. His tone of voice clearly betrayed his worry. "We can't keep it with the others!"

"No, it can't be kept with the others. We must find somewhere to keep it so it will be out of harm's way, either to it or to our men," Bolitho said. Picking up on the worry in Leat's voice, he added, "I share your concern, Mr. Leat, but I cannot refuse a request from Sir Arthur Wellesley."

He paused, contemplating their options.

"There should be a little space somewhere in the hold. Just make sure it's placed where it will not cause any disturbances. I would hate to have to tell the general that we allowed his horse to become injured on our voyage."

Up above, Billy scratched his head and stared down at the creature, his own eyes almost as wide as the stallion's. "What the bloody...! Sorry, sir," he said, catching himself as he spotted Yates nearby. "But are we really taking horses aboard, sir?"

"It seems so. We need to get the gratings off, all the way down to the hold, and - um. make sure that the area under the gratings is perfectly clear, and that there's straw - lots of straw, bales all round the space, so that if the weather gets rough it will bounce off the sides, not crash into casks or crates." Peter looked down at the horse standing rather precariously in the transport. "But first, I think we should bring it aboard. Have we anyone who is familiar with horses?"

Billy hesitated. "Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but it might be best to get the hold all ready and fixed, like, before the animal comes aboard. To make sure he don't have nowhere to panic or run or kick things in the meanwhiles. And Jemmy Ducks come from a farm, sir. He might know about horses."

Peter nodded. "Yes, thank you, Barrow. You're right. Sort the hold out first: we can't have it cantering round the deck. And warn Jemmy Ducks that he might end up with a rather larger charge than he is used to - and one that we really don't want to end up as the officers' dinner." He looked down at the horse again. It was nervous, and ... "I don't know how we're going to manage," he said. "But make sure there is no perishable food near by - no sacks of flour or anything that can be spoiled."

"Aye sir. Bales of straw, no casks or crates, no perishable food it is. And sir?" He leaned forward to give the midshipman a conspiratorial murmur. "You always know how to manage. You's an officer." He grinned as he touched his forehead and turned to get to work.

Billy broke the news to the men at their grog.

"You must be joking," Tanner Joe breathed in disbelief. "You must be bloody joking."

"No joke, mate, and he's waiting now, but the sunlight ain't, so let's jump to it!"

"Three horses in the hold?" cried Taylor. He looked in dismay at Williams, his fellow carpenter's mate. "We'll have to knock up stalls or sommat to keep 'em in!"

"And two of 'em's females and t'other's a sire what's got to be kept apart."

"And we'll have to shift all the stores to clear a space. And stow 'em all again new. Looks like no one's goin' ashore tonight, lads. Or sleeping."

"Stow your gob, Macklin. Here comes Watts."

The bosun, tried almost beyond endurance, was in a rare mood and no one was willing to risk his wrath. Never before had he needed to house a horse in his barky, let alone three horses. The purser sent someone ashore to obtain vast quantities of straw for padding. The weary seamen and marines were sent below to begin removing the casks and cases and sacks that they had so carefully arranged and balanced in the main hold. The main hatch was opened and a sling was rigged. The carpenter's crew was hopping with impatience, unable to get at the space where they needed to build their stalls.

"Bloody army!" Williams muttered as he dodged his planks out of the way of a moving chest. "Give 'em an inch...! First a pair of officers to Lisbon, then it's two more officers and a bleedin' Frog to 'Porto - and now three horses as well? Pah!" He swung his mallet with vehemence.

"For peace sakes, shut up, George."

"No, you shut up."

Horses. When he came with his baggie the precariously placed supplies were again being moved.

Atleast news below deck traveled faster than any musket's bullet and swear all directions to find their victims. He came not a moment too soon, if near a moment too late, and after he's shifted his load there, he scampered up the ladder to see for himself before a word could be said. He passed the men complaining, marking who was the loudest by face, and also by name.

Horses. A stallion. And two more to be brought, had De Guarde on end. So that was why they were moving all of the supplies they've already brought in. So precariously placed to take the least space and be kept most safe. The sailors were sure to be as angry and annoyed as a disturbed wasp's nest. It was one thing to restock the ship, but another to do it all and then be told there was shifting to be made.

Once on deck he ran quickly to the railing and peered down. His eyes grew large at the sight of the big animal. This was what they would be having on their ship? Boy, they should hope for no bad weather, else there'd be trouble. And fed... it would have to be fed, but not too much and not too little, and kept so it wouldn't fall and watered too. How would they even get it on board without having the beast panic from being hefted into the air. It was so big!